


Hello, Goodbye.

by noodlerdoodler



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Baristas, Coffee Shops, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Abuse, References to Addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: Klaus Hargreeves worked as a barista at The Umbrella Coffeeshop for a short while- until he was fired. This is what happened during his time there: the friends he made, the milestones they reached, and how they helped each other.Accompanying playlist here!
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Vanya Hargreeves/Sissy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	1. Prologue

If Klaus learnt anything from working in retail, it was this: you always end up meeting the strangest people. 

He was used to meeting peculiar people at his usual haunts and he was used to meeting people at rehab who were downright crazy. For instance, during his last treatment stint, he had shared a room with an alcoholic who had cracked and downed a bottle of mouthwash. That had been a sight to behold when Klaus had been woken up by the sound of furious gulping in the middle of the night and found his roommate pouring neon blue liquid down his throat like it was vodka. But nothing from his past could’ve prepared him for the kind of people he met while working at the Umbrella Coffeeshop at the corner of Fifth and Main. 

Of course, if he had known the adventures he would get into while working there, he still would’ve said yes. If he had known that he would meet a thirteen year old who only ordered black coffee and insisted on drinking a whole pot at a time; a young violinist wrestling with her self-esteem and self-confidence after escaping her abusive boyfriend; a middle-aged man, fresh out of therapy, with a hero complex and an impressive collection of knives; an actress, activist, and mother rolled into one, who was all smiles until her walls were broken down; the largest man he had ever seen who won gold in the Olympics for boxing until his fall from fame; if he had known, on his first day, about all of them, he still would’ve taken the job. He wouldn’t trade his time at Umbrella for anything in the world, not even to stop the hallucinations that plagued him. 

Despite their oddities, he had treated each and every one of them as equals. It was just the way he did things- he never saw anyone as being above or below him, which was one of the reasons that his father had always accused him of having ‘no respect for his elders’. But he knew from experience that a blank slate and the shoulder of a friendly stranger was sometimes all you needed in life. As he poured and served drinks, (“with a smile” Ben reminded him), he treated all the customers as his friends. Well, at least, he did until it got him fired.


	2. Vanya

The Umbrella Coffeeshop sat on a corner, sandwiched neatly by what used to be a record store (it had been shut down once the world had transitioned to CDs and then the internet) and what was still a family-run laundromat. It wasn’t the nicest place in the world- Klaus himself used to be one of the many homeless people that slept in the doorway of the record store until fairly recently- but it wasn’t the worst either. The apartment above the coffee shop was clean, dry, and a reasonable size for two people. Sure, there was a mental health facility and a rehab centre just a few blocks away, as well as a sizeable crime problem in the area, but the people were plenty friendly. 

He was just happy to have somewhere warm to sleep, Klaus thought to himself, as he clambered out of bed and stretched his back. See above mention of sleeping on the street before. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, (Ben had already flung open the curtains), and he admired how it felt on his bare skin as he crossed the room to the bathroom. He paused to stretch his arms above in head, closing his eyes and bathing in the light. He brushed his teeth, swallowed a handful of pills, and fumbled to find his uniform. The fact that he looked pretty sexy in an apron wasn’t lost on him, as he got dressed and sauntered downstairs into the coffeeshop.

“Look who’s up on time for customers,” Ben called, in a friendly way, as he unstacked the chairs and set them out at tables, “Wonders will never cease.”

“I have a very fluid relationship with time,” Klaus reminded him, as he wiped the coffee machine down quickly and started a fresh pot. He used to start the day with a winning combination of heroin and alcohol flowing through his veins but nowadays coffee had to make do. 

“Maybe you should start a long-term relationship with an alarm clock,” He replied, without looking up from what he was doing, but Klaus just knew he had that smug look on his face. 

The two of them had been friends ever since they were kids, playing in the same sandbox when they were little and attending the same private school when they were older. Most of his friends had been interested in him on and off but Ben had been one of the few who had stuck around for the long run. He was there for Klaus even when he was at his lowest point and had given him not just this job, but somewhere to live, despite his record of flakiness. Ben was willing to put his trust in him. Not that it had been smooth-swimming the whole time: there had been arguments, losing touch, uncomfortable reunions, and one stupid drunk kiss (a mistake) along the way. 

At the root of their conflicts had been Klaus’s never-ending problem with substance abuse. He wanted nothing more than to float away from reality while Ben desperately wanted to keep him anchored. It had been a tricky decade but for now, at least, he had been sober for a while and was doing pretty well. He was holding down his job here, had somewhere to live, was attending his AA meetings, and- best of all- he hadn’t seen his father for nearly a full year. He poured himself a coffee and, as he took a generous sip, he shuddered at the burning bitter taste in his mouth. He grimaced. 

“You remember what we talked about?” Ben prompted him, flipping their “OPEN” sign with a flourish and joining him behind the counter.

Klaus used his index fingers to stretch his mouth upwards, “With a smile.”

Chuckling, Ben punched him lightly on the arm, “Just stick to looking cute.”

“That,” Klaus lowered his hands and perched them on his hips, “That, I can do.”

It was true that he was pretty good at his job. Once he got into the rhythm of it, (greeting the customers, taking their orders, and whipping up the drinks), it was easygoing and there wasn’t much that could fluster him. He liked to chat with anyone and got along particularly well with several of the regulars, including a few older women who thought he was “darling”. He couldn’t say that he disagreed. Weekly, the nearby facility brought a group of patients on an outing and Klaus chattered easily with the patients as well as the staff. He felt a strong kinship with them. 

“I heard you’re getting out soon, Diego,” Klaus sighed, placing a hand on his heart, “What on earth will I do without your weekly visits?”

Diego rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning, “We both know that out of the two of us, you’re the nut-job, Klaus,” He held up his cup like a toast, “Cheers to three months out of rehab.” 

"New record!" Klaus joked, holding up the whipped cream canister like a glass. Chuckling dryly, Diego rejoined his group. 

The morning was pretty uneventful and routine, Klaus doing everything automatically without needing to think much about it. But one thing that broke his stride abruptly was when a woman a few years younger than him pushed open the door gingerly and stepped inside.

Business had practically slowed to a halt after the lunch rush, so he took his time working on her mumbled order and watched her out of the corner of his eye. She’d certainly never come in here before but something about her face struck a chord with him, as if he’d seen her somewhere. Her posture and gestures were so noticeable because she was trying so hard to be inexplicable. She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket nervously, keeping her head down as if she didn’t want anyone to look at her, and would blink at him in surprise when Klaus tried to make small talk. 

He insisted that she should go and sit down, that he would bring her flat white over to her when it was finished. Something about her felt off, as if the air around her was filled with sadness and anxiety, and it tugged at his heartstrings- he couldn’t just let her walk away. Once he got the okay from Ben to take his break, Klaus loaded a tray up with leftover goodies and crossed the shop to the young woman. He wasn’t very surprised that she had tucked herself away in a corner, trying to shrink into her jacket as he approached and set the tray down. 

“I, uh, I didn’t order any food-“ She wouldn’t meet his eyes and something stung inside his chest, as if someone had pricked his heart with a needle. It was as if she wanted nothing more than to vanish completely and extroverted though he was, he could empathise with that feeling. 

Pulling up a chair, he assured her, “Hey, I know, don’t worry about it. It’s on me. You should try a lemon bar, they’re really good,” He started unwrapping one as he spoke, “I’ve tried talking Ben into selling my baked goods but he says we’d be shut down in an instant. Can you believe that?”

She offered him a small smile and politely opens a lemon bar, nibbling the corner of it.

“It’s good, right? Right?” Klaus grinned, “What’s with the mini-guitar?” 

She frowned for a moment before following his gaze to the case she had stashed under her table, “Oh, it’s a violin. I teach little kids how to play… I’m second chair at- well, I was second chair.”

It’s the most she’s said so far but she looks embarrassed, as if she’s spoken out of turn, and ignores when he gestures for her to go on. He likes to think of himself as being a little psychic, so he takes her in and tries to work out what her deal is. Obviously, she’s an anxious person and from what she said, it seems that she recently quit playing second chair- or maybe she was forced to quit- which definitely gave a blow to her confidence. She doesn’t strike him as someone who had a lot of confidence in the first place either. 

“I’m Klaus,” he tells her, before pointing at her with the lemon bar, “What’s your name?”

She glances up at him, “Vanya… Vanya Belikov. Uh, why are you talking to me?”

A Russian name. He was not expecting _that_. There wasn’t a hint of an accent but he guessed that if she hadn’t been born in the United States, she’d at least grown up here.

“Just being friendly with the clientele,” Klaus lounges back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles, “You looked like you needed a friend. I know how that feels, okay?”

Back in rehab, they loved to preach that ‘a problem shared was a problem halved’ and encouraged them to spill their guts in front of everyone in group. For someone like Klaus, it wasn’t a problem. He loved the sound of his own voice, (as Ben liked to tease him), and could talk for hours at a time if nobody cut in to stop him. If he was high or drunk, he didn’t even need an audience to launch into an endless monologue about whatever. 

But it wasn’t so easy for people like Vanya. He’d come across people like her before, who clammed up when it was their turn to talk and steered the conversation desperately away from themselves. There had been a guy in their rehab group, who was hooked on sleeping pills, that was just like that and always sat quietly in group, staring at his hands. Whenever he was asked a question, he just mumbled or shrugged it off. He might be the only person to have relapsed even more times than Klaus.

One thing that he didn’t manage to get out of Vanya was that she was a writer, as well as a violinist. That night, when he couldn’t get the voices in his mind to quiet, he found himself looking up her name on his phone and reading her articles with the comforter pulled over his head. Apparently, she’d published a book about what it was like growing up with a neglectful father and a famous sister, who was a charming actress that Klaus recognised. She’d written some short pieces too, which he scrolled through absentmindedly before closing his phone and rolling onto his back. Vanya Belikov… he’d always found himself drawn to other broken people. 

“Oh, sorry, are you closing? I can just go…” It’s a week later and an awkward violinist hovered in the doorway, fiddling with the strap of the instrument’s case. 

All day, it’s been pouring with rain so the Umbrella has been even busier than usual, (there’s a lot of puns to be made about that but Klaus has heard them all already). The street is clogged with puddles and wet footprints have been trampled throughout the shop. Klaus is hard at work mopping them up. Ben is sitting on the edge of a counter, drying a glass. They are working quietly but contently, Klaus humming along to his playlist flowing through the shop's speakers. Technically, they closed ten minutes ago but Vanya is soaked to the skin from the rain and her eyes look puffy, as if she’s been crying. 

Ben shook his head and hopped off the counter, “What can I get for you?”

She took another step inside, still looking unsure. She had clearly been out in the rain for a while, drops of water rolling off her anorak and falling onto the floor. Her thick wet hair has stuck to the back of her neck and is also plastered to her face. Before she could protest, Klaus ushered her inside, closing the door behind her. For the last week or so, she had been hovering in the back of his mind and more than once, he’d wondered what was up with her. If she’d come back. And here she was, standing right in front of him, a sort of kindred spirit if her writing was anything to go by. 

“Uh, coffee. Just black if that’s okay,” She shivered.

“Klaus?” Ben called, “Can you grab the blanket off the couch for…?”

“Vanya,” The woman filled in, looking embarrassed, “I’m really fine, I-“

Tuning out her apologies, Klaus does as he’s told and traipses upstairs to get the blanket, which Ben’s grandmother knitted for him a few years back. It’s patterned with octopi, whose tentacles curl around the border, and has gotten Klaus through some terrible comedowns. When he first came to stay here, Ben had wrapped it around him and let him lay on his lap as he shivered and sweat through withdrawals. Just holding it in his hands now makes him feel comforted. By the time he gets back downstairs, the two of them have retreated to a table and Vanya has been coaxed out of her coat. She was wringing her hair out, as if it’s a towel, as she talked. 

“- didn’t even notice me,” She finished, just in time for Klaus to drape the blanket around her shoulders and saw her tense involuntarily at his touch, “Oh, uh, thank you.”

“Vanya went to school with us,” Ben filled him in, “She was a few grades below us.”

Now that Ben had pointed it out, he did recognise her from school. She had been a sophomore when they were seniors and had been the oddball of her class, (there’s always one), who didn’t fit in with the rest of them. Not particularly academic, little interest in extracurriculars, and she’d been ostracised by the other girls. He remembered people laughing at her because she’d been tripped in the cafeteria and ended up sprawled on the floor, covered in her own lunch. Somebody had made her lick her spilt drink up off the floor. Klaus had laughed, high off his ass. 

In the end, she’d dropped out. She’d finished high school at a public school.

The realisation dawned on his face and he pointed at her, “You know, I do recognise you! I-“ 

“Nice pants,” Vanya nodded to Klaus, changing the topic quickly. School was obviously a sensitive subject for her and he wondered if her family was too, mentally filing it away. 

He did a twirl for her, pretending to be flattered even though she didn’t really mean it, to show off his favourite leather pants with the slits up the side. As he turned, he could’ve sworn that he saw something lurking in his field of vision for just a moment but it vanished instantly. Ben just rolled his eyes and grabbed a chair for him. Klaus flopped down onto it, trying not to stare curiously at Vanya. Last week, she had been so eager to get away from him and now… Well, she still looked keen to escape at the first opportunity but she had come back and that meant something. 

“Did something happen, Vanya?” He asked, gently. 

Slowly, she started nodding and seemed to slip down even further in her chair, as if she couldn’t bear them looking at her, “I… I didn’t know where else to go, I guess.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Klaus swore he could see a large shadow hanging over her. It seemed to be wrapping its fingers around her throat and almost seemed to be smiling. Like most of his hallucinations, it was hard to make out exactly what it was but it seemed like it was trying to climb inside her skin and sleep there. It reminded him of when he was younger and- blinking a few times, he locked that memory away for now. He tried to tune back into the conversation. 

“- the right thing,” Ben assured her, “Right, Klaus?"

“Right,” He agreed, daring to look directly at the shadow figure. It wasn’t there. 

Devoting his full attention to Vanya again, he managed to pick up the pieces of the conversation. She was here because she had run away from her boyfriend, who treated her badly, and didn’t know where else to go. Ben had offered up their couch for the night, promising to help her collect her things and find somewhere for her to live. He was such a good person that it made guilt writhe in Klaus’s stomach for a minute before Ben slung an arm around his shoulder and grinned at him- it was impossible to dislike Ben but sometimes Ben made him dislike himself even more. The three of them closed up The Umbrella, (Vanya mostly watched patiently), and headed upstairs, ordering pizza in for dinner. The shadow didn’t return. 

Vanya curled up on their couch, under the blanket, and Klaus retired to his room not long after. As usual, the noise in his head made it hard to fall asleep- the auditory hallucinations were much more common than any other kind. During the day, he could tune them out for the most part but at night, he couldn’t get away from them. Soon, he found himself hitting his head repeatedly against the pillow in frustration. And then, he slipped out of bed and took his pillow into the front room. The violinist was hugging her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible.

Tossing his pillow on the floor next to the couch, Klaus laid down next to her.

“Leonard?” Vanya jerked awake, instinctively, panic in her eyes before she saw it was just him and frowned, “Klaus?” 

“Can’t sleep,” He admitted, shifting so he could look up at her, “When Ben took me in, I slept on that couch and it always felt better when he was at my side. He stayed with me all night for the first few weeks, making sure I didn’t choke on my own vomit.”Sleepily, Vanya propped herself up on her elbow, “You were sick?”

“In withdrawal,” he explains with a sigh, “Addict.” 

She nods, “I used to be the same with painkillers. My dad gave them to me all the time as a kid because I had migraines and it seemed to fix everything…” 

“It always does…” Klaus rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

In the dark, they confess to each other. She told him about her boyfriend, about Leonard, and how they’d ended up together in the first place. He’d been so sweet, so sweet and kind. He seemed like the first person who ever ‘saw’ her and understood her- her sister had always outshone her at home and she hadn’t had any friends at school. It made her realise how lonely she’d been and that things didn’t have to be like that. But the relationship had started to sour, so slowly that she didn’t even realise it. He was manipulative, made her do things she didn’t want to do, and always seemed to find a way to make her feel bad about herself.

When he’d raised his hand to her, Vanya had finally realised how bad things were and had walked out. After wandering in the rain for a while, she had finally remembered the coffeeshop and how Klaus had been kind to her for no reason at all. It was the only place she could turn.

“What about your sister?” Klaus prodded.

She just shook her head, “She’s too busy to worry about me.” 

In return, he told her about when his father had kicked him out. He was lazy, a layabout, a disappointment, and he had no place under Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ roof anymore. Klaus had only been seventeen at the time and had couch surfed his way through senior year, easing the pain in any way possible. When he ran out of places to go, he was ducking in and out of shelters and soup kitchens, until he was forced to return home after his father had to bail him out of an overnight cell. The cycle of rehab, getting clean, returning home, slipping up, getting kicked out, staying with Ben, and going back to rehab began. If he was honest, it all merged into a hazy blur. 

He liked the way that Vanya listened without any kind of judgement, just nodding along. Sometimes, she’d ask a question but it was fuelled by interest rather than disgust. The pauses in conversation grew steadily longer, punctuated by yawns, and Vanya started to slump against the arm of the couch sleepily. As he talked, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier. He let them fall closed, dozing lightly on the floor and listening amicably to the voices that grabbed at him through the dark. It seemed that their desperate pleading voices grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close and holding him up so that he couldn’t wriggle free. Writhing around, they crawled through his ears and squirmed inside his head like worms on the brain. 

“You talk in your sleep,” Vanya told him a few weeks later, cupping her coffee close to keep her warm in the cold and gloomy weather, “I didn’t know if I should wake you up or…”

She trailed off, casting her gaze down at her hands. Both of them had spent the afternoon hunting for a new place for her to live. Although she had slotted neatly into their lives, as if she had always been there, there simply wasn’t enough room in their apartment for three people. The last one they’d looked at seemed promising, Klaus thought idly, as they traipsed down the sidewalk in the rain. On and off, it had been raining consistently for the last few weeks and he had become accustomed to bringing his umbrella everywhere he went. Right now, they were huddled under it. 

“At least I don’t snore,” Klaus quirked an eyebrow, “It’s a miracle I get any sleep at all.”

Her laugh was faltering but came easily, “Leonard always said it was cute-“

“Fuck Leonard!” He replied, raising his arms to the sky for emphasis, “Fuck Leonard, I hate Leonard!” He spun on the spot, drawing the attention of a few passersby, and now Vanya is definitely laughing at him, “That bastard.” 

Slowing to a stop, he drew a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and held one between his teeth. He lit it easily and took a long drag on it, blowing the smoke into the wind. He held out the rest of the pack to Vanya, shaking it enticingly, but she just smiled politely and turned her head away. For a while, they walked in comfortable silence as if they’re old friends; he held onto the umbrella with one hand and smoked with the other, she walked in step with him and took a sip of her coffee. They were turning the corner onto Main Street when she grabbed him by the arm:

“Hey, um, Klaus,” She met his eyes, “I just wanted to say thank you… You were right. I, uh, do need a friend. Do you think-“

“I’m your friend, Vanya,” He flicked his cigarette into the gutter and slung his arm around her, pulling her in close, “And I’m usually right. Well, sometimes. At least once a month.”

She leaned into him gratefully, “Really?”

He withdrew his arm and stepped away from her, dramatically sweeping into a low bow, “I’d be honoured to be your friend, if you’ll have me,” He pressed his hands together to beg, “Please, please, please, Vanya?”

“Alright, alright,” Vanya laughed. It was a wonderful sound. 

Maybe it was all in his head- wouldn't be the first time- but it seemed to Klaus that the rain finally seemed to stop falling.


	3. Five

The first time that the thirteen year old had walked straight up to the counter and ordered a pot of black coffee, Klaus had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Aside from the obvious factors that made this anecdote amusing, it was made better by how serious this teenager’s face looked and the fact that, after this, it started happening every single day. He would sit at a table with a pot of black coffee, that he insisted on pouring himself, and study that day’s newspaper with a furrowed brow. If Klaus tried to make conversation with him, he would only be rewarded with smart-ass responses and smug looks- but that didn’t mean he gave up. 

“Good morning, Number Five!” Klaus greeted cheerily, when the young boy walked in the door the second they opened, “Can I get you a glass of milk? Fruit juice, perhaps?”

The Boy gave him a withering look and took his usual seat, flipping the paper to the sudoku and filling it in with record speed. One of the few things that Klaus knew about the kid, (and there really weren’t many, he didn’t even know his real name), was that he was smart. The other thing he knew was that he was rich, as he wore the uniform of the most expensive private school in the state knee socks and all. Everything else was just guesswork as far as Number Five- a nickname Klaus had given him (for convenience) but had already forgotten why- was concerned. 

“Do his parents know he comes here?” worried Vanya, who had been chatting to him at the counter a few minutes ago.

Klaus shrugged, “Absolutely no idea. All I know is that if someone had snitched to my dad about where I was at his age, I would’ve been dead meat.”

She considered this for a moment, “I don’t think my parents would’ve noticed if I’d run away.” 

The two of them watched The Boy for a minute before he looked up and gave them a smarmy look, accompanied by both his middle fingers. Klaus couldn’t stop himself from wheezing with laughter as he started making a fresh pot of coffee for the kid. Even Vanya managed a small smile. 

Like clockwork, Number Five checked his watch at 8:50, folding the newspaper neatly and tucking it under his arm. His mannerisms made Klaus think of an old man trapped in the body of a teenager- he had smother his laughter behind his hand at that thought. Five flounced out of the door, his school backpack hanging off one shoulder, and walked up the street to the stop just as the bus was about to arrive. He stepped on and the doors closed, the bus swinging out of sight around the corner. Klaus went over to clean his table and noticed a slip of paper tucked under the coffee pot, which he retrieved and studied with interest. 

Dates and train times had been detailed on one side of the paper, which looked like it had been neatly ripped out of a notebook. The other side was blank. Frowning, Klaus folded up the paper and stuffed it in his back pocket, balancing the cup and saucer on his arm so he could carry the (mostly empty) pot of coffee in his hand. He dipped back behind the counter and hummed under his breath, turning on the faucet to rinse out the coffee pot. 

_’What is Five up to?’_ , he wondered absentmindedly to himself before dismissing it as none of his business. 

“Hey, um, Klaus?” Vanya’s voice broke through his thoughts abruptly, “Who’s that?” 

At first, he thought that she was talking about the man with the briefcase who had just stepped through the door and taken the table by the window. He started to explain but she cut him off and nodded in a different direction, at a woman outside of the shop. It was Sissy Cooper, most recent owner of the laundromat next door- it had been passed down to her by her father, who had passed away about a year ago now. She was a natural blonde, liked to dress in long dresses that fell past the knee, and a single mom since her divorce.

“That’s her son, Harlan,” Klaus continued, nodding to the boy attached to his mother’s hand; he was the reason that they had paused outside the door, as he had spotted something on the sidewalk and crouched down to look at it, “He’s got some kind of disability, I forget the details. Sissy did tell me at some point. I’ve got a memory like a sieve, Ben always says. Well, let’s see him try and remember everything that I-“ 

Vanya was still looking at the woman, thoughtfully, “Does she ever come in here?”

“Sometimes,” Klaus shrugged. 

On the sidewalk, Sissy had encouraged her son to leave whatever he’d been looking at and tugged him gently to lead him on. They continued past the window, completely unaware that they were being watched by two sets of eyes, and eventually disappeared from view. Presumably, Sissy was going in to open the laundromat for business and keeping an eye on Harlan at the same time. She could never find a babysitter, Klaus knew that much, because she’d even left him with Klaus before. As it turned out, Harlan and him did not gel very well. 

The piece of paper had been forgotten almost immediately by Klaus, since he’d been distracted almost immediately after stumbling across it. In fact, it was only when he was stripping down to his underwear to sleep and it fluttered from his pocket, landing on the carpet, that he remembered it even existed. Slowly, Klaus bent over and fished the scrap from the floor, studying it for the second time that day. As he did so, he went to lean against his bedroom wall and overestimated how close he was to it. He stumbled a few steps and cursed.

“Klaus?” Ben stuck his head around the door, immediately cursing and covering his eyes, “Dude! I thought we talked about the nudist thing.” 

Realising he was standing in his underwear, Klaus protested, “I’m in my room-“

“With the door wide open!”

“And I have underwear on! You can’t be a nudist with underwear on, Ben,” A thought bubbling up in his mind, Klaus added, “Did I ever tell you about that nudist beach I visited in Francais? It had a certain…” Chef’s kiss, “ _Je ne sais quoi!_ ” 

Still covering his eyes, Ben grumbled, “Can you at least invest in some underwear that isn’t a thong?”

With that, he retreated from the room and grasped blindly at the doorknob to close the door behind him. Klaus considered calling after him to correct him: it was a Brazilian brief, not a thong, but decided to drop it. He crossed the room and used a pin to stick the scrap of notebook paper to the wall. Hands on his hips, he stared at it and tried to make sense of it. Maybe the kid was going on vacation? It was a possibility, even if those dates fell firmly on school days, that he could be taking time out. Klaus used to take ‘vacations’ all the time when he was in high school.

Or maybe the kid was visiting family out of town? Or maybe none of this was any of Klaus’s concern? He certainly didn’t want to poke his nose in where it didn’t belong. The thing was… And it was stupid. Klaus pushed his hands through his hair, pulling at his curls, and sighed. The thing was that The Boy reminded him of himself at that age. Even if Five was definitely smarter, not a binge drinker, and seemingly well-adjusted. There was just something about him… 

The loneliness. That was it. 

“Hey, Number Five,” Klaus poured him a cup of coffee, black, and ignored how the kid scowled at him, “Can I ask you a question?”

The kid’s trademark smirk spread across his face, “You just did, idiot.” 

“Do you have any friends your own age,” Klaus continued, “Or do you just have a serious caffeine addiction that keeps you coming back here?” 

Number Five leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table: “You want to talk to me about addiction?” 

“Just answer the question. Pretty please!” Klaus pressed his hands under his chin, forming a V-shape, and drew out the ‘e’ sound in both words, “Pleeeaaaassseeeeeee?"

The kid rested his chin on his hands, “Are you sure you should be allowed around children? It seems like something that your probation shouldn’t allow. But… I’ll humour you,” He took a sip of his coffee, keeping eye contact the entire time, “No, I don’t have friends. And my dad is an asshole. Does that make you happy to hear?”

“Oh, so happy~“ Klaus managed to clap his hands together before a hand grabbed him from behind. He turned to find Ben was pulling him away from the table, hissing in his ear about striking up conversations with clients. Seemingly, Vanya was a happy exception to this rule because he never got in trouble for that one. But initiating conversations with minors he didn’t know? That’s a big no-no, Ben reminded him, and he banished him to behind the counter.

That’s where Number Five found him a few days later, sulking as he leaned against the counter and polished the glasses. It was nearing the end of his shift and the shop was almost completely empty, only a pair of old ladies chattering over tea and an abnormally large man who was staring into his coffee for answers. Klaus was listening to the voices of the dead rattling around in his ears- brain?- as he polished the same glass over and over, trying to ignore the shadow lurking in the corner of his vision. The world around him has faded away, only the glass and the voices remaining. It’s the sound of a hand slamming down hard on the service bell that shocks Klaus out of his stupor and causes him to curse loudly as he nearly drops the glass. 

“I need a favour,” The Boy was standing there, his hand still planted on the bell, “Are you high?”

“No,” Klaus couldn’t help laughing, “I wish. What do you need?” 

“Let’s just call it…” he considered, “A personal matter.”

“If you’re looking for drugs,” Klaus waggled a finger at him, “I don’t have any and I wouldn’t give them to a kid even if I- wait, are you a NARC?” He reeled, throwing up his hands, “That makes so much sense! Why else would a kid drink so much coffee? They sent you to catch me off my guard but jokes on them, I’m clean as a whistle-“

Five rolled his eyes, looking exasperated, “I’m not a NARC, okay? Can you just come with me?” 

Checking his wrist, (and finding he was not wearing a watch), Klaus replied, “When I finish my shift, alright? I’d rather not be homeless again if that’s alright with you.” 

Impatiently, Five resigned himself to wait and sat down at his usual table. While Klaus served customers and made polite small talk, he kept his eye on the boy who was sitting there. What on earth could he possibly need his help with? At his age, Klaus had only wanted the help of an adult was when he needed somebody to buy him vodka- and Five just didn’t seem like the type. He wondered if Five had managed to get himself into some real trouble, since he was certainly smart enough to end up involved in something dark and twisted. Smart kids are always getting into all kinds of trouble, Klaus knew this from experience. 

After fifteen minutes had passed, Ben returned from running chores to excuse him and he whistled as he slipped out from behind the counter. Inventing an excuse, (something about yoga class?), Klaus wrapped his long coat with the fur trim around him and let himself out into the street. He strode over to the bus stop, knowing Five was smart enough to wait five minutes before following him, and sat down on the bench. A few moments later, the telltale click of a door opening and shutting reached his ears. The teenager walked over to him, hands stuffed in his pockets, and sat next to him on the bench.

“Stop acting so damn cagey,” Five instructed him, “You look like you’re kidnapping me.”

“Rude, much? You’re the one kidnapping me…” Klaus pouted. They had time to kill, so he took a small tin out of his pocket and began rolling a cigarette. He was blithely aware of Five’s keen eye taking in everything he did, so he recounted a handful of anti-smoking slogans as he sealed the cigarette and held it between his teeth. As it turns out, it was the cigarette that the kid was interested in- he closed the tin and picked it up to study the design on the lid.

It had belonged to his father before him and had the family crest of arms, ( _pretentious prick_ , Klaus thought to himself), engraved on it. He had stolen it from his father’s desk as a parting gift when he was first kicked out and had kept tobacco in it ever since. When he was high, he had tried to scratch off the crest with a key and the result was furious scratches on the metal. Silently, Five studied it for a moment before returning it to the bench and fixing his gaze straight ahead. He sat up straight, with his hands in his lap, as if he were in a school assembly. 

As if he were with his father. Vividly, Klaus remembered dinnertimes with his father- never his mother, who would eat later in the kitchen on her own, for reasons that he couldn’t remember. He would slouch down the stairs into the dining room and find his father standing at the other end of the long table; his father would tell him when to sit and the majority of the time, Klaus would do so obediently. They always ate in heavy silence, listening to the scrape of forks and knives against plates, and if he angered his father, he would slam his fist down on the table like a judge in a court. It would send a shock through his entire body, as if electricity was sparking through his veins. If he didn’t hold his posture, stuck his elbows out, or was caught ‘daydreaming’, then his father would sharply snap at him. Klaus mastered the numbing his suffering.

He followed Five onto the bus and they head uptown, Klaus still none of the wiser on where they’re going or what they’re doing. Repeatedly, he quizzed Five but only got snark in response and eventually, a bribe to keep quiet for the rest of the journey. It turned out that little Number Five kept fifty dollar bills in his pocket- a risky move, Klaus thought. When they stepped off the bus, they were standing in front of a large intimidating building made of redbrick. 

Finally, Five grabbed him by the front of his coat and held him at arms length, “You’re going to do me a favour and pretend to be my dad. I’ll give you whatever you want- money, drugs, whatever. And you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Then, he shoved him and Klaus stumbled backwards, surprised at the kid’s strength. Still, he agreed. It was no skin off his back after all and it definitely wasn’t the worst thing he’d done for money- or the best, as he was quite proud of his short time as an exotic dancer. 

“So,” a balding man with ill-fitting glasses let them into an office, “You must be Frank’s father. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since Frank started here at our school.”

Klaus managed a nod and shook his hand. _Frank_?

The balding man sat behind his desk, which was adorned with various pieces of ugly memorabilia, and Klaus sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair opposite from him. Next to him, Five was perched coolly on an identical chair- he looked more like he was in a business meeting than a deputy-headmaster’s office. Listening to flattery from the man, even if it was about a business he didn’t really run and investments he didn’t really have, made Klaus puff out his chest in pride. He remembered what his father had taught him, straightening up in his chair and folding his hands neatly in front of him. He made steady, even eye-contact.

“As nice as it has been to meet you, I’m afraid that Frank’s behaviour has been unacceptable lately,” Finally, they were getting to the good stuff, “Neglecting assignments, arguing with teachers, even fighting with other students. One student went home with a black-eye!”

Klaus glanced at Five, who was wearing a Mona Lisa smile, and said, “I honestly had no idea…He’s so well-behaved at home. So open about what’s bothering him. I suppose…” He put on his most pathetic expression and pretended to swallow a sob, “My wife and I have been having some marital issues lately. I suppose… we didn’t realise the effect it was having on him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Five’s minute smile stretch into a victorious grin. 

As they’re leaving, Five was practically skipping down the school steps, (except he was definitely too collected and thinks himself too mature to skip). No suspension, no detention, no nothing, just a pat on the back and an appointment with the school counsellor. White, upper-class privilege is truly alive and well... Klaus is not embarrassed to admit that he skipped down the steps, amazed at his own brilliance, and threw his arms up in the air as if he was king of the world. He spun onto the sidewalk and seated himself at the bus stop with a flourish, his coat like a cape flapping in the wind. 

“Are you proud of your Uncle Klaus, Frankie?” He asked, beaming up at Five. 

“God, just stick to Five,” The kid sighed, sitting down next to him and resting his elbows on his knees, “I’m sick of being Frank Jr. The selfish bastard, he couldn’t even think of a new name for me. Do you know how tiring it is to be surrounded by self-absorbed idiots all the time?” 

Klaus ruffled his hair affectionately, “When I was your age…”

“You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be me,” Five snorted, getting up from his seat again, “So save the advice. I don’t want it. Just take your cash and get out of here.” 

“Five, c’mon-“ Klaus started but before he could finish, Five grabbed him by the neck and slammed him hard against the wall of the bus shelter. He held him there for a moment before, point made, he dropped Klaus back into his seat, and threw a wad of dollar bills at his feet. 

The teenager stalked away, stranding him at the bus stop. 

“I just don't know how to get through to kids,” Klaus told Vanya a few weeks later, lying on the rug of her apartment in defeat, “Do you try and be cool? Use the lingo? Play the responsible adult? I don’t think I can even pretend to be a responsible adult… Except that one time…”

His friend was sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of tea and scribbling something on a notepad. In many ways, the situation reminded him of therapy except usually he would be the one lying on the couch and the notes would be about him. Vanya was working on a sequel to her last novel but kept changing her mind about what she wanted to write about; the last one had been easy, she said, because it had just been writing about her own life. Klaus had leafed through it briefly a few weeks ago but felt uncomfortable prying into her thoughts like that, putting it back down. 

“Remind me what the problem is again?” Vanya rubbed her temples, looking down at him. 

The problem was that something was wrong. Although he didn’t know this for a fact, he could just feel it in his bones and it was eating away at him slowly. Something was wrong. Or something was going to go wrong. Perhaps both at once. It was what Ben liked to refer to as “paranoia” but Klaus was usually right when it came to these things- just like at Vanya. Maybe he was an empath, he pondered, as he peeled himself off the floor and sat with his legs crossed. But something was definitely going on with Five: weird relationship with his father, acting out at school, and an unhealthy dependency on coffee? It all meant something. 

_“Don’t forget the note.”_

“Right, right, you’re right,” Klaus mumbled, stroking his chin.

Vanya leaned forward in concern, “I didn’t say anything, Klaus.” 

“Just… talking to myself,” He waved her away but instead of leaving him alone, she slid off the couch and sat down beside him. 

Taking his hands in her own, she spoke kindly, “Listen, Klaus, I don’t know but, uh, I think you might be overthinking this. Frank, right?” Five. “He’s not your responsibility. So, why don’t I drive you home and you can get some sleep?” 

True to her word, as ever, Vanya drove him back to his apartment and promised to come by tomorrow after her morning lessons. Ben was visiting his parents across town, so it was blissfully empty and quiet in the apartment- apart from the voices that is but Klaus tipped his medication into his palm and knocked it back with water to quieten them. For good measure, he took one of the sleeping pills that Ben hid in the back of their bathroom cabinet and drifted into his bedroom. He slid a record out of its sleeve and onto the record player, lowering the needle gently.

Klaus flopped facedown onto his bed, the voices bouncing around his head becoming more distant, and listened to the hum of the record. He was out cold before it had reached the fourth song, drifting into an empty dreamless sleep. 

“Hey, Klaus… Klaus…” At first, he thought the voice was just in his head so he shut it out and rolled away from it; only to be shaken gently by the shoulders, “Klaus!”

Blearily, he forced his eyes open and blinked up at the figure looming over him, unable to make them out. Ben, of course… With that resolved, he tried to curl up and go back to sleep but Ben leaned over to shake him again, “Klaus! Come on, you need to get up now. I’ve got something for you.” 

“S’fine,” Klaus slurred, propping himself up on his elbows, “I don’t have a shift today. Wait, you know this… Why are you doing this to me, Ben?”The bed creaked a little as Ben perched on the edge of it, holding out a folded piece of paper to him, “Well, there’s two reasons. I wanted to check you weren’t dead because you’ve been out for-“ He checked his watch, “about 20 hours now. And secondly, Five came by today with this… this note for you. I think you should read it.”

He dropped the note onto Klaus’s chest before getting up, offering him his usual kind smile, and disappearing into the kitchen. God, he loved Ben- they were basically brothers at this point, the amount that they’d been through together. Returning to the note, Klaus unfolded it and found the scratchy biro writing of a thirteen year old boy’s runaway note. This got him out of bed in an instant, still hazy from the sleeping pill (okay, two, he’ll admit he took two), and he bolted to where he’d pinned the note on his wall. The date… the date… Goddamnit, what’s the date?

“Ben, what’s the date?” He called, already pulling his shoes on.

“March 24th! Why?” Ben replied immediately, “Where are you going?”

He was already out the door.

It would’ve been faster to drive to the train station but answering Ben’s questions would’ve eaten up too much time and, even if he had answered them all, there’s no guarantee he would’ve driven Klaus at all. Ben was far too logical and careful to just ‘shut up and drive’’ and it would take Vanya too long to get here. If Five stuck to his original plan, the date and time he’d written weeks back, Klaus had precious minutes to stop him and couldn’t waste a single one of them. So, instead of driving or taking the bus, he took off running faster than he thought he was capable of down the sidewalk. Something about the idea of that little shit living on the streets was painful.

Sure, he was smart enough to make it on the streets. If Klaus could do it in the throes of his heroin addiction, then anyone could and Five was more than capable. But he shouldn’t have to- that was the point. No child should have to live on the street. The soles of Klaus’s feet began to burn from pounding against the ground but he didn’t stop, even though he was struggling to breathe.

Even though he was exhausted, he seemed to speed up when the train station came into view and skidded inside, frantically scanning for the right platform. He was too dazed to make sense of the announcements, so grabbed onto the nearest member of staff and started describing Five. Have you seen this boy? About so high, dark-haired, wearing a tie, looks like an old man trapped in the body of a teenager. Probably carrying a suitcase? They must’ve thought he was insane, clinging to a stranger and babbling intensely, but managed to point him in the right direction.

“Five!” Klaus yelled, scaling the stairs faster than he thought possible, “Five!”

He was just about to give up hope when he caught sight of a thirteen year old frowning at him.

“Shit,” muttered Five.


End file.
